


Fluff

by Sabulum



Series: The Prompt Fic of Mischief [7]
Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Brothers, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Lokitty, but lots of brotherly feels, not much plot to speak of, vaguely post-Avengers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-06
Updated: 2012-09-06
Packaged: 2017-11-13 16:15:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/505371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sabulum/pseuds/Sabulum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shapeshifted or not, Thor always recognizes his brother, and he will not let the simple fact that Loki is now a cat get in the way of what he has to say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fluff

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Let me pet you](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/11271) by thejerseydevile. 



> I've developed a habit of writing fic for random Loki-pics I find on Tumblr (unsurprisingly if you've ever been there). This is one of them.
> 
>  **Title:** Fluff  
>  **Genre:** ^  
>  **Rating:** K?  
>  **Timeline:** I DUNNO. Post-Avengers sometime?  
>  **Characters:** Loki (Lokitty) and Thor  
>  **Warnings:** Un-beta-ed and only lightly edited. Vaguely angsty. FLUFF. Minimal dialogue. Minimal plot.  
> 

Loki does not want to be caught. He evades capture for many long minutes, but once Thor captures him, he refuses to let him go.

He doesn’t mind the scratching or the biting or the rabbit-like kicks at his arm that draw blood—for after all, Loki’s claws are not so sharp as his blades, and Thor has endured much worse on behalf of his brother in centuries past. A few scratches are as nothing compared to the burn of acid. No; instead of letting go as Loki wishes, Thor holds fast to him in a firm but gentle grip. He remains unmoving through Loki’s yowls and angry thrashing, suffering the bites and scratches, whispering apologies and soft words and pleas to be heard until, at last, his brother has calmed. Until he has tired himself either mentally or physically of expressing his rage in the only way available to him.  
  
It takes hours, but Thor does not care.  
  
Then when, at last, Loki lies still but restless in his arms, Thor waits further. He sits, settling Loki gently on his lap. Here Loki could scratch and kick at far more tender places, but Thor holds him only with a tender hand on his back, and—  
  
He speaks. Softly.  
  
Slowly, Loki’s tension eases as Thor whispers carefully planned words. Honest words, drawn up from the heart of him, tearing raw streaks of pain through his chest as they pass. He speaks of long days thinking that his brother was dead, standing at the edge of the Bifrost and staring down with blank, unseeing eyes. He speaks of Frigga, locked in her grief, wearing a Queen’s mask in public but sobbing brokenly on Thor’s shoulder when they were alone. He speaks of Odin’s weary, bone-deep regret, which aged him as nothing else—not even the passing of untold centuries—could. He speaks of feasts held in Loki’s honor, and low, keening songs raised in the night, mourning the loss of Asgard’s second son.  
  
When Loki twitches and his ears flick back, Thor runs a hand across the top of his head and whispers, hoarse; “You are loved. Do not ever forget that.” And he continues.  
  
Of its own will, his hand rubs gentle circles into Loki’s shoulder blades as he speaks, and he realizes how much he had missed this: the chance to touch his brother so freely, unhindered by rage or spite. The words choke in his throat, catching around explanations of Loki’s true heritage and how Odin had cried—cried—as he recounted his mistakes to a grieving Thor. Loki’s ears rotate uncertainly, twitch once and then settle forwards again, hesitant.  
  
Thor resists the urge to clutch the feline to his chest so that he’ll never escape—or fall—again. Instead, he scratches at the base of Loki’s skull in that place he always used to cup with his hand, before everything went so wrong, and his tears drip into the thick mass of fur.  
  
“I missed you,” he grates roughly around the pressure in his chest.  
  
In response, Loki turns his head into Thor’s touch, and sighs in what might almost amount to forgiveness.


End file.
